


Mary Celeste

by mac23, Nodame



Category: Given (Manga)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mafu is a teacher, Mutual Pining, TW: mentions of suicidal thoughts, Ueno is a doctor, anyway, collaboration!!, mafuyama babeyyyyyy, more tags to come, they both work in a high school, with my fave!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 02:51:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20284183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mac23/pseuds/mac23, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nodame/pseuds/Nodame
Summary: Usually, Mafuyu watched from afar, never venturing too close to Uenoyama. Their conversations never continued further than simple pleasantries, and their curious acquaintance never progressed past school functions. Today was quite out of the ordinary, and it gave Mafuyu mixed feelings. After all, he couldn’t remember the last time he held a hand this warm.





	Mary Celeste

Sometimes it’s the white cloth of Uenoyama’s lab coat in the light that catches his eyes; sometimes it’s the quiet humming he can hear when he passes the infirmary late in the evening after all the students have vacated; but today, it’s the inquisitive stare boring through what feels like his very soul that catches Mafuyu off guard. Each day is a new leaf to be turned over, a new mannerism to be observed, and where Uenoyama is concerned, there seems to be no end to the list of quirks he possesses. 

“Dr. Uenoyama, can I help you?”

The question the teacher posed lingered in the air, mingling with the giggling of passing school girls and the strange looks their position garnered them. Uenoyama cornered Mafuyu, only relenting on his advance when the wall braced the back of the latter. 

“You’re pale. Have you been sleeping well lately?”

“Yes, yes.”

“And what about your diet? Have you been eating your vegetables?”

“I have. I’m fine, I promise.”

More staring ensued before the doctor tugged at Mafuyu’s hand, leading him down the hall, presumably towards the infirmary. 

Usually, Mafuyu watched from afar, never venturing too close to Uenoyama. Their conversations never continued further than simple pleasantries, and their curious acquaintance never progressed past school functions. Today was quite out of the ordinary, and it gave Mafuyu mixed feelings. After all, he couldn’t remember the last time he held a hand this warm. 

Lost in his attempts to process the last few minutes, the teacher neglected to pay his attention to the steps they were ascending. The fall lacked dignity, but surprise rooted itself before embarrassment could get the chance. A frowning Uenoyama dominated his field of view, accompanied by a muscular arm supporting him.

“You should pay more attention.”

Uenoyama guided a doe-eyed Mafuyu up the rest of the stairs and through the door at the top. They emerged on the roof, a soft breeze dancing along their skin to a melody of which their ears were not privy. 

“If you insist you’re fine, then I’ll believe you. At least get some fresh air, though. Not negotiable.”  
The doctor sat against the fence of the empty rooftop and motioned for the teacher to join him. Together they sat under the grace of the sun and basked in the lack of noise. It certainly sufficed as an opportunity to take a deep breath and collect himself. Mafuyu chanced a glance at the stern-faced doctor, admiring the subtleties in his facial features.

“What’s on your mind?”

Startled by the question that interjected his shameless marveling, Mafuyu tried searching for the right words to say but fell short. He couldn’t exactly say that Uenoyama was on his mind. 

“Forget I asked. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Uenoyama.”

“Idiot, you don’t have to apologize. And you don’t have to call me doctor. Just Uenoyama is fine.”

“Thank you, Uenoyama.”

If Mafuyu’s initial impression of Uenoyama told him anything, it would be that he had only breached the surface. He may have a harsh way of speaking, but he’s straightforward and actually quite considerate. If one foot in the water felt as good as absorbing the sunlight in silence without any momentary worries, Mafuyu wanted to know more about the mysterious doctor responsible for giving him this fleeting respite.

As briefly as the thought had crossed his mind, Mafuyu pushed it away on account of unprocessed trauma. He was not ready to start anew-- he did not feel that he deserved to love again. It was much too soon for someone like him to be forgiven and he took a second out of the silent warmth of the moment to remind himself of that. 

Mafuyu’s drop back to square-one was contemporaneous with the sounding of the school bell.

“Feeling a bit better?”

If he said yes, the lie would only serve to eat away at him. How could he take advantage of someone’s kindness in such a way and then tell a bold faced lie? And if he said no, he’d be digging himself into a hole. There was no way in hell he would ever tell the unsuspecting doctor of his sins. The catch-22 made his throat dry and in the stead of words, Mafuyu offered the sincerest smile he could muster. 

Ever the escape artist, Mafuyu skillfully avoided Uenoyama for the rest of the day. He was mentally stretched thin with his self-inflicted delusions of guilt and by the end of the day, exhaustion seeped out of every pore. Truth is, he had no desire to let go of these bleeding wounds and he had little doubt he’d feel the same way long after they turn into scars. The thought provided comfort in the form of eventual closure. Maybe one day, these deep cuts will scar over and he’ll be free from everything that left him crying on the bathroom floor at night.

The endless chain of thoughts that kept him chasing his tail had been both a crutch and a source of strength. Surely, he assumed, there must be others out there struggling in the same manner. If he could do anything to redeem himself, it was in the form of reaching out. If he could assuage the guilt of another, maybe he’d regain any sense of self he might have left. 

For this single purpose, he kept a box in his classroom and encouraged his students daily to take the first step he could never push himself to take. He lived vicariously through the broken bonds he mended, the cries of help he gave voice to, and the light he restored to the eyes of his floundering students. The conclusion of classes meant he could sit down and sift through the slips of disclosure. 

Every week, he would receive a poem that divulged the author’s desire to end their life. The seamless craftsmanship of the writing and the intense emotions the content evoked left Mafuyu in tears more often than not. The teacher could never tell if the author’s intentions were being conveyed perfectly or if he was projecting his own emotional state onto the words on the page. 

Mafuyu wiped the tears from his cheeks just before a knock on the door frame of his classroom forced him back into reality. Uenoyama’s slight look of concern greeted him in the late evening splash of sunset colors that painted the room. 

“Were you crying? Are you alright?”

The teacher nodded and surrendered the note to the doctor.

“I’m alright. It’s hard not to cry when reading something like this.”

In the silent time that passed as Uenoyama read the poem, Mafuyu folded his arms on the desk in front of him and laid his head in its cradle. Composure took over gradually and by the time Uenoyama had finished reading the poem, Mafuyu was ready to talk about it.

“Holy shit, who wrote this?”

Mafuyu folded the note carefully and placed it in his workbook for safe keeping. 

“One of my students. I don’t know who it is but their poems are breathtaking.”

“Wait there’s more of these?”

“I’ve gotten one each week for the past few weeks. The context is the same in each one and they always sign with the pen name Mary Celeste,” Mafuyu confessed as he continued reading through the last half dozen slips in the box.

“That sounds familiar. Isn’t it that boat whose crew went missing without a trace?”

A quick internet search confirmed Uenoyama’s unexpectedly helpful comment. In that moment, Mafuyu felt ashamed that looking up the pen name had never crossed his mind. He did everything he could to extract information about which of his students wrote it, but could never get any more than the pen name. Mafuyu was particularly worried about his female students, but he never disregarded the possibility that it could be one of his male students.

Now he was armed with more information which could undoubtedly lead him to the author. It mattered a great deal to him because he felt like time was running out. Mafuyu had been aware of this student’s suicidal thoughts but couldn’t do anything to help. He was sure that the anonymity factor was the only reason the student still continued to write. The teacher feared the writing would only stop with the death of one of his students. 

“Thank you again, Dr. Uenoyama. This is the second time you’ve come to my rescue today,” Mafuyu said as he held his head in his hands, rubbing at his temples. The toll of the day weighed heavily on him.

“And I’d do it again.”

Again, Mafuyu was locked in a staring match with the doctor. This one, though, inspired comfort rather than discomfort. The teacher didn’t want to feel the desire welling up in his core. He didn’t want to seek out the warmth of Uenoyama’s hand again nor his help. He feared becoming dependent on Uenoyama for emotional resolution because that would only backfire and leave a mess in its wake. No matter how he looked at it, this was not a path he could take.

“I appreciate it,” Mafuyu paused before he continued, “It’s late, we should call it a day.”

The teacher hurriedly packed up his things and fled the room, thoughts running a million miles an hour as per the status quo. In the chaos of the moment, Mafuyu never noticed the eleven digit mobile number printed on the business card Uenoyama had snuck into the teacher’s workbook.


End file.
